


In the Dark

by Alysswolf



Category: Doctor Syn Alias the Scarecrow (1963)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:51:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13931235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alysswolf/pseuds/Alysswolf
Summary: Reflections after the raid on Dover Castle





	In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the Disney version of Dr. Syn, the Scarecrow of Romney Marsh, not the character from the Russell Thorndyke series. This particular story fills in some missing scenes in the Disney movie.

The sound of John beating out the quick march on his drum paradoxically slowed Dr. Syn’s pounding heart. In another 300 yards they would be under cover and out of sight of Dover Castle. Behind him he could hear the heavy breathing of the prisoners forced to walk at a speed that depleted their few reserves of strength. Hopefully the promise of safety would help them sustain the pace. They dared not pause; General Pugh might be watching. Their escape was as close to a miracle as Syn ever wanted to experience.

“Keep going, John,” he said as John’s steady beat faltered. He could see John’s fierce expression as the boy slowed down to walk beside him and knew that a discussion of what happened was inevitable. 

“No questions. Make for the trees as quick as you can, lad.” Dr. Syn made his voice relax into the calm, even tone and genteel phrasing Sam and Ben expected of their parson. Their ragged breathing and soft oaths told him that the two men were astonished that they had gone into the dungeons of Dover Castle and escaped.

No doubt they would tell tales of this escapade whenever the Scarecrow’s men gathered. Dr. Syn hoped they would leave him out of those tales. When John eventually followed his father as squire, it would serve him well to have this tale to his credit. The men of the marsh would accept him as their own.

Lieutenant Brackenbury’s reaction at the gate came as hoped-for luck. Syn had seen Brackenbury’s revulsion at General Pugh’s ruthlessness. Pugh’s arrogant dismissal of fair treatment for his Harry and Bates had primed Brackenbury to assist Syn’s wild gamble to rescue the prisoners. General Pugh’s sudden appearance when they were so close to freedom had thrown everything into disarray. 

As Pugh strutted past the press gang towards his own position in front, Syn’s mind had rapidly run through his options. They were few. He’d doubted if his rudimentary disguise would fool Pugh for a moment. It certainly hadn’t fooled Brackenbury. John’s inspired intervention had saved them all, but Syn was left wondering if any of his ideas would have worked. An interesting intellectual exercise but one that Syn was just as happy to leave unanswered.

At last, John disappeared into the shadow of the trees. Syn felt the tension in his shoulders relax as they marched into the concealing shadow of the trees. He stepped to one side and waved Sam and Ben forward with the prisoners. Once everyone was safely obscured, Syn moved among the prisoners unlocking their chains. Bates collapsed on the ground as John and Sam assisted Harry onto a waiting horse. Bates leaned against the horse for a moment, catching his breath. Syn quickly covered his borrowed petty officer’s uniform with a cloak. John dropped his drum and coat into a ditch and pulled on his own coat. Outwardly appearing as the respectable gentry they were, Syn and John led the prisoners down the path towards the beach.

“Sir?” John began.

“Later.” Syn raised a cautionary hand. He understood John’s need to talk about what happened and what nearly had happened but questions and answers would have to wait until later.

“I was to bring you all as far as here then leave. God bless you all,” Syn said as the prisoners reached the bluff a mile above the beach. He and John would barely have time to make a quick change and reach the beach ahead of the prisoners. 

It was time the Scarecrow took charge of the events of the evening. 

John was lingering over the goodbye to his brother. Syn wished he could give them more time, but time was not their ally.

“Hurry, John.”

“Coming,” John replied; reluctantly pulling away from his brother.

Turning their back on the prisoners, Syn and John hurried to the place where Mipps had hidden horses and their Scarecrow disguises earlier in the evening. 

“You did well back there, John. You kept your head.” Syn allowed some of the pride he felt in this boy, young man rather, to show in his voice. He slowed his pace just enough to allow John to walk beside him.

“I was scared, sir,” John confessed.

“But you didn’t allow fear to rule your ability to think.”

“What if I had?” 

“Then I would have come up with some wild gamble no doubt,” Syn said with a slight smile. “I am very glad not to have had to put my ingenuity to the test,” he admitted.

“But . . .” John continued stubbornly. 

“We will talk more once we have concluded the night’s tasks, John. Quickly now, become Curlew and when we reach the beach, stay with the horses. Your father might recognize his other son if given too close a look.” Syn clasped John’s shoulder in promise that his questions would be given full attention soon. 

Rapidly donning the his alter ego’s tattered clothes and mask, he allowed himself become the Scarecrow. It had been a busy night and he would be glad when the prisoners were safely on their way to Holland. A successful night in the end, though one he suspected General Pugh would never forget. 

::::::::::

Astride his big grey horse on the rise above the beach, the Scarecrow smiled in satisfaction behind his mask. Out in the bay the Dutchman’s ship was hauling anchor and preparing to sail home with his passengers. To the west, he could barely see Mipps and his men escorting Sir Thomas and his daughter back home. All were safe. His word to the prisoners had been fulfilled, and perhaps a small debt of gratitude from Sir Thomas had been created. 

“Come, Curlew,” the Scarecrow said in his crow’s voice. As far as he knew there was no one close enough to overhear. Nevertheless, it was prudent to be cautious.

Curlew nodded and spurred his horse towards the barn and safety. The Scarecrow smiled and gave him a good lead before urging his own horse into a gallop. A hard race would be good for both of them.

Slowing to a canter as they approached the barn, they peltered into the yard neck and neck. Curlew’s smaller horse was lathered but still going strong. The Scarecrow’s bigger horse was sweating lightly and resisted his effort to pull him up.

“Later, my gallant lad,” the Scarecrow said in gentler tones than his usual rasp. The horse nickered as if in agreement as it slowed down to a walk.

Without a word, the Scarecrow and Curlew opened the trap door and led the horses into the underground stable. Working silently, they stripped the tack off the horses and rubbed them down. After checking that hay was available and the water was fresh, they removed their own disguises. 

“Well, John, do we need to talk now or can you wait until we reach the vicarage?” Dr. Syn asked softly. All traces of the Scarecrow’s harsh tones were laid aside with the disguise. With a wet cloth he scrubbed off the last traces of the soot which had darkened his face and checked his appearance in a small mirror. He adjusted his clerical collar and picked up a large wicker basket. If anyone saw them they would just assume that their vicar had been on one of his many errands of mercy.

“I can wait, sir.” John said after a long hesitation.

“I do understand, John. I wish there had been time to talk earlier. However, there were more pressing matters. The Dutchman would not have been pleased to lose the tide, and I’m afraid that getting Harry and the others away safely had to be my primary concern.”

Leaving the barn, the two walked slowly across the marsh to Dymchurch. They met no one and were soon seated before the fire in the vicar’s study. Syn poured himself a brandy and settled into his favorite chair with a sigh. Against all odds they were back safely.

“Sir, I . . .” John stumbled and fell silent as he tried to find the words to express his tangled emotions.

“Take your time, John.”

“When Brackenbury told me to stay behind at the gate, I was sure he meant to betray you. What made you so sure he wouldn’t?”

“Hope, primarily,” Syn admitted. “Lieutenant Brackenbury is a decent man. Confronted by General Pugh’s cruelty, I hoped he would be willing to take a stand against injustice. As I said at the onset, this was a wild gamble, an outside chance.” Syn saw John’s troubled expression. John was looking for certainty but all Syn had to offer was a willingness to gamble everything on chance and his ability to judge the measure of a man.

John shook his head. “You risked everything on hope?”

“Sometimes that’s all we have. John, I don’t have answers. I took a chance; an impossible chance a rational man would say, but I made a promise to Harry, Bates and the others. Luck, the honor of a decent man, and a young man’s inspired action carried us through.” Syn gave John an affectionate smile.

“You said you would have resorted to some wild gamble if I hadn’t acted. You always have a plan.” John managed to sound faintly accusing, as if Dr. Syn had let him down by not anticipating Pugh’s sudden appearance.

“I kept my head and considered options. You kept yours and acted to save us all. Sometimes that’s all we can do. Yes, I much prefer careful planning to inspired spontaneity, but I never doubt the power luck can play in any situation. Hopefully we won’t have to depend on luck again for quite some time. If Pugh finds this one failure too many; we may receive a breathing space.”

Syn leaned back with a pensive smile. “Sometimes, John, the best planning is recruiting intelligent, brave, and resourceful companions who can step forward when events go awry.”


End file.
